Mirror Mirror
by Angel of Pandemonium
Summary: She didn't know what she was doing here. She was the one who followed the rules.


_**Just a short one shot about the mirror of Erised and Hermione… and Ron. I don't know why more people haven't done this. I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY CHARACTORS- except the random ghost who appears.**_

 _MIRROR, MIRROR_

She didn't know what exactly she was doing. She knew what she _should_ be doing. She should be patrolling the school halls like a 'good little prefect'… which, for the record, she was. She didn't like breaking rules- for which everyone knew, and most teased her about, though she was known to break them with her two best friends.

If she was good at fibbing, she'd say that she _was_ patrolling the halls. Just… not in the places she was supposed to do so… like the fifth- floor corridor, on the left- hand side. Hermione Granger had never been one to lie… not really.

Ron was off on his patrol, which he complained _endlessly_ about, and, of course, Harry was in detention for Umbridge. Hermione just rolled her eyes. This was the year that her best friend was having the most trouble that she'd ever seen him have.

She supposed (having read psychology books over the summer) that it may have something to do with the events of their fourth year… or perhaps, it was more than that. If she looked at it, there was probably a buildup of negative emotion in her best friend.

In their _first year_ at Hogwarts, He'd killed professor Quirrell (grant it, the only reason that the professor had only died because he'd fallen to the dark side so much that he'd let the most horrible dark wizard since Grindelwald take over half his head). He'd sustained nasty injuries himself, and he'd seen his best friend get knocked out by a stone chess piece.

In their second year, he'd nearly died by basilisk poisoning, seen her petrified, had to turn into Goyle, and had been accused of being the _cause_ of the basilisk attacks in the first place, after finding out that Voldemort had transferred some of his own powers into him.

In their third year, he'd had to deal with time travel, seeing a future in which his godfather was given the dementor's kiss, and watch the reason that his parents were murdered escape custody. Hermione didn't even _want_ to think about their fourth year, when he'd witnessed the death of Cedric Diggory, and the return of his parents' murderer, and then had nearly died himself… _again._

She could not blame Harry for his state of mind right now. Not even for his nasty as hell temper. She sighed, as she idly walked by a door leading to an abandoned classroom as she thought. God knew that Harry deserved a break. She also had a feeling that he (nor she and Ron) would not _catch_ a break until Voldemort was destroyed for good, and even then, she knew that Harry would want to round up all of his followers and put them away.

And Hermione had a nasty feeling that it would not be as simple as killing Harry's parents had been for Voldemort. She shook her head as she walked, not a living, nor dead soul bothered her that night, even Peeves seemed to be taking a break from his usual antics.

As she walked by yet another little room (an office, this time, she supposed), a glint of light caught the corner of her eye. She stopped, and she turned. She brought up her wand, the illuminated tip made the glass glint. She blinked. What was a mirror doing in a room that was completely abandoned, with no classes being held, and almost no one even coming up to is particular room in the first place?

She walked up to the mirror, slightly confused at its placement, but as she walked up to the silver- or maybe it was white gold- frame, that confusion became awe. The mirror was beautiful. Elegantly carved, the frame looked like something from the dark ages, with words scrawled around the glass, in what she supposed was some sort of dead language: _erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. It stood as high as the ceiling.

She blinked as she stepped up to it, and she gasped. She did not see herself- well, she did, but the reflection was not even _facing_ her. It was laughing, holding up a sheet that- if she could see correctly, was scores for the N.E. , all of which read outstanding.

Then, the reflection changed. She saw all of the people that she cared about, alive and safe, standing over a grave that was marked: _Tom Marvolo Riddle_. She gasped. Voldemort was dead, and all those she knew were just fine.

The picture shifted again, and this time, felt her heart skip into her throat. She was not alone… oh, no. The reflection Hermione was laughing, being caught up in someone's arms, being swung around and pulled close. The other figure in the mirror kissed her as he held her up, and she twined herself around him.

She reached out to touch the mirror's glass, to touch him. Flaming, red hair, ice blue eyes… a face that was so familiar… because she saw it _every day_ in _every class_...

She stared at the face of Ronald Bilius Weasley. The one thing that she wanted- above all of the other things she'd seen in the mirror (something that she winced at, she'd rather have _Ron_ than the safety of all of her loved ones… what kind of person _was_ she?).

The one thing that she feared that she'd never get.

She walked out of the room, closing the door, the haunting memory of the kiss that hadn't even happened played on her lips. She heard him call out her name, then, and she gasped, turning to see him running to catch up with her.

"Our time is up. We should report in and go back to the common room." He said. She nodded, closing the door behind her. He frowned, looking over her head. "What's in there?"

"Nothing… not really." Hermione said it quietly. "Just… dreams."

He shrugged it off, and they left.

For the next three months, she walked back down that hallway, and spent thirty minutes in front of the mirror.

The last night, she heard someone say, in a quiet voice… " _that mirror shows one the greatest desire kept in their heart. Men have wasted away in front of it."_

She turned to see a ghost. She gasped. "What do you mean?"

The ghost girl shrugged. _"Only that I have seen people wasting away in front of the mirror… wishing for what could be or what could have been, without even trying to get it themselves."_ She replied.

" _Use the mirror as a starting point. To find out what you want, and then…. Go and get it."_ There was a twinkle in her see-through eye. One that Hermione found herself returning. Determination. She left the room, and went back to Gryffindor Tower.

She didn't go back for the rest of the year… and when she finally did go back, it was to sit in front of it and mourn her broken heart, for he had found someone else.

She had no way of knowing that Ron would sneak into the same room and stare at that very same mirror himself, seeing the image of a curly, brunette haired girl entwined with his reflection… and neither of them noticed the ghost of the young woman watching both of them, shaking her head sadly as she watched the two.


End file.
